


An Experimental Future

by crimsondust



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Drug use mention, Gen, Inadvisable Science, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondust/pseuds/crimsondust
Summary: Combeferre along with Joly tries experiments to figure out painless surgery,  Courfeyrac and Enjolras end up witnessing some of the results.





	An Experimental Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [courfee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/courfee/gifts).



> For Courfee, who requested a triumvirate fic ages ago. I apologize this took so long and hope that you like what this ended up as. Many thanks to kcrabb88 for being an excellent beta reader.

Combeferre had clinical rounds every Tuesday after lectures, besides his increasing responsibilities at the hospital; he expressed a cheerfulness at these rounds which surprised the rest of his classmates, who were groaning and mumbling at the sudden extra load they had found themselves in at the start of this academic year. This load had caused some of their mistresses to complain that they would pay more attention to them if they were dead. At which the medical students’ eyes would light up, ‘I have been looking for a cadaver to practice on. I just bought one at a very expensive rate.’

Dr. Feydeau was a very fair, empathic doctor, who sometimes took care of patients for free. So far Combeferre and Joly had accompanied him to treat several people around Paris. Sometimes however, Dr. Feydeau ran out of patience with Joly and his various ailments.

‘And what is it today, Monsieur Joly?’ he asked an out of breath Joly who had managed to appear at the very last moment. The clinical rounds were compulsory for all students and would be marked and Dr. Feydeau hated being made to wait.

Joly stuffed a handkerchief in his pocket, removed the layers of scarves covering his mouth and mumbled about the pneumonia that he had had since last week, with all the miasmas in the air going around. He remarked cheerfully that he was going to try a new way to treat it, which involved being more aligned with the magnetic currents in the body, according to the homeopathy book he was reading.

Dr. Feydeau looked at Joly with a deadpan expression, ‘Just try not to die on these rounds, Monsieur Joly.’

‘I shall do my very best, sir,’ Joly replied cheerfully, having no intention at all of dying and could not think why his professor would assume that. Combeferre couldn’t help but stifle a giggle as they walked. The cool air felt pleasant to their cheeks, as Joly hastened to wrap his scarf even tighter.

Dr. Feydeau sighed. Joly was a clever doctor, someone who kept his head in emergencies and who cared a lot for his patients, perhaps too much, but he let himself be swayed by everything he read in the medical journals.

He knew that as a young student several years ago visiting England during his medical studies, he had succumbed to some variation of what Joly was experiencing; it was called the Medical Student’s syndrome for a reason. He shook his head with a sigh and murmured something about how medical students should be accustomed to such things by now. Joly thought to himself that trained medical professionals should be accustomed to students' experiencing such things too, though he did not say that out loud and their clinical rounds ended without much affair.

‘If I feel I may have some of the symptoms of the disorder we were reading in class, I end up caring more about discovering the cures so I can help others.’ He explained to Combeferre as they were waiting for an omnibus to take them from the hospital after their rounds.

Combeferre nodded, 'Dr. Feydeau is strict but I don't think he dislikes you, he would not have praised your technique for the diagnosis of that patient last week, if he didn't think highly of you.' 

Dr. Cuvier and Dr. Feydeau both praised his approach of being objective during surgery, but there had been several times recently when he came home utterly devastated after losing a patient. He never talked about how he had nearly left that first year of medical school, because he felt that it was wrong for him. Combeferre's heart grieved at the fact that medicine was unable to save as many people as he had hoped it would.    

Joly cocked his head to one side and leaned on his cane, ‘I know that look. You’ve had a discussion with Dr. Feydeau. What are you up to, has he released the marks for this term? Has he started being stricter about the attendance?’

‘Dr. Feydeau was urging me to work towards securing Prix de l’Internat now that I have been working as an internat for nearly a year. He thinks I can take the exams for that this year and that it would give my medical career a very big boost. It is a very prestigious award and comes with some financial security which I need, having to send money home more often this year, because of mother’s illness.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do very well. I have at least a year more to go before I am ready for the internat exams. You have to quiz me on the bones, as you promised for next week's viva.'

I’m not taking them.’ Combeferre said pursing his lips and gesturing to Joly that he did not want to talk about this, ‘But I will help you with yours.’

He took a surprised Joly by the arm and walked briskly ahead while Joly held on to his hat and gestured at the omnibus that had just arrived.

Combeferre ignored the fact that they had agreed to take the omnibus but kept walking through the streets, taking one turn after another. Joly knew that Combeferre was busy in his thoughts, but he wanted to interrupt him and convince him to take these exams, twice he opened his mouth to say something but fell silent again. They walked past a carriage driver whipping his horses to drive off in a hurry with one of them in a poor condition, with its ribs poking out and its coat having lost its sheen.  Combeferre shook his head sadly at the horse.

‘Musichetta will be glad when my exams are over, she complains of the terrible medical pamphlets and instruments. She was unimpressed when I tried phrenology on her, thinks it’s all nonsense. She’d rather read Byron and just the other day she was reading Frankenstein and excitedly telling me all about it.’

‘Don’t you like the Romantics?’ Combeferre asked with a grin.

‘They seem to be much too fond of death or the supernatural and always write about that.’ Joly replied twirling his cane around and pointing it at a random cab which was passing in the distance.

‘But they are political too.’

‘Well, meeting some of Bahorel and Prouvaire’s friends was certainly an experience, though I still don’t like that Hernani play as much as they do. I still think the plot made no sense logically, they could have come to a much better arangement without everyone having to die.’ Joly pointed out.

Combeferre laughed, ‘But I found that the play was instrumental in changing the attitudes of the public towards Romanticism, though I don't completely agree with Monsieur Hugo's preface…’

‘Oh, Combeferre, you don’t need to try and defend it.’ Joly laughed and Combeferre conceded that it was a fair point.

‘But I like that about Musichetta, the fact that she reads and has opinions.’ Joly said, a faint blush creeping in his cheeks. ‘Oh Combeferre, if you knew how much I loved her and how it worries me when she sulks at me.’

Combeferre nodded, he never had a mistress, so he did not know what it was like. It could be said that he thought of women in the highest of terms, but rather as an abstract idea, to be respected and protected.

‘Why are you not taking the exams?’ Joly blurted out at last, unable to stop his curiosity.

‘I’m working on a different project.’ Combeferre began, ‘It started as a joke, Bernard challenged me to come up with a new discovery, in front of several men of science when we were in our second year and had just joined a medical society. I have been experimenting with distilling some herbs to find a technique for painless surgery for a few years since then.’

‘And?’

Combeferre shook his head, ‘It’s been close, but I still haven’t found the right ingredients in my experiments. I have also scoured the medical journals for every new technique discovered. I think it is more important for me, rather than any prestige or prize, if I can help discover something that would be truly beneficial for everyone and advance the science as we know it.’

Joly smiled excitedly touching the tip of his nose with his cane at the thought of conducting experiments, ‘I have a few hours after the rounds and Bossuet is away this week to visit his family, I would like to help.’

‘Very well then,’ Combeferre smiled as he slowed down for the first time, causing Joly to nearly crash into a pole, he steadied himself with his cane. ‘You, my dear Joly, are about to be a part of something historic.’

                                                                                                                  

* * *

 

Combeferre woke up with a thumping headache and glared at the midday sun from his window. Joly muttered beside him and smiled before going back to sleep, a small dimple appearing in his cheek. He stood up, careful not to disturb Joly and walked around, looking at the vial bottle on the table and sighing; did it work this time? He yawned loudly and began clearing the table of his scientific instruments, so he could have breakfast.

He should make some hardboiled eggs, he thought, as his eyes fell on his titration equipment, the pans were nowhere to be found.  

He giggled as he put the eggs over the bunsen burner using the tongs, at the thought of how he and Joly had tried on nitrous oxide and then kept laughing till their sides hurt, last night. He had no idea of what he had said, though he remembered standing on the table and giving a speech to a very excited Joly. He remembered Joly walking around without his usual number of scarves and coats, even though it was bitter cold. He did not remember much of what they had done, it did not seem like they had set anything on fire which was always a good measure of a successful evening of experiments, though he still felt a bit woozy and strangely happy.

He sat down on the sofa, with his burnt hardboiled eggs, just as the key turned in the lock and Courfeyrac bounded up inside, followed by Enjolras.

The two were having a deep discussion which was only broken up by them collectively glancing at Combeferre’s lodgings which were in even more of a mess than usual.

Combeferre grinned sheepishly at them, ‘This is not as bad as it looks.’

‘Famous last words.’ Enjolras said dryly, a smile appearing on his lips, ‘Are you alright?’

Combeferre took Enjolras’ hand in his, ‘I feel very well,’ he declared. ‘In fact, I feel so well, that I think we should dance.’ Enjolras was taken aback but before he could say anything, he found himself swept around the room. He patted Combeferre on the shoulder gingerly and quietly took his seat. 

Courfeyrac giggled at his friends and then got up, ‘You don’t expect me to stay out of the fun, do you?’

Combeferre held out his hand and they started waltzing around the room before making up their own dance moves, while Enjolras looked on amused.

‘I’m delighted to think that you have taken up dancing.’ Courfeyrac said.

‘I have been told I need to, several times in fact. So now’s a good time to start.’

‘Cancan is illegal, so technically we’re breaking the law with our dancing, which delights me.’ Courfeyrac grinned, ‘I take great enjoyment in things where we can combine our Republicanism and pleasure.’

‘Art becomes a form of protest,’ Enjolras nodded, smiling, his blonde curls glistening in the sun and presenting a contrast against his simple black suit. 

‘Exactly, you have hit upon the very reason why you should take up dancing too, Enjolras.’ Courfeyrac looked at him slyly. ‘Prouvaire would agree with me in saying that it is the poet’s and artist’s duty to tell the truth, when the government does not. If the forms of art are censored, then they become a form of protest and I take that very seriously. Besides, you would look very well on the dance floor, Enjolras.’

He smiled to himself as he imagined the scene. 

‘Combeferre, what exactly happened last night?’ Enjolras asked as they settled down.

His friend collapsed back onto the sofa, ‘Oh Joly and I were trying to perfect a formula for a drug that would give us painless surgery.

It is something I’ve been working on for some years, Joly suggested since we were experimenting we should try a mesmerism technique that he has been reading about. We tried to mesmerize our cat and the landlady. It did seem to work, at the start, but we need to do more experiments to prove it. We also tried nitrous oxide, and may have accidentally discovered the best chicken recipe I have ever tasted.’

‘Is it even better than the time we were snowed in with nothing much to do and each of us cooked something for supper and you said you had made the best chicken cutlets ever?’ Courfeyrac asked.

‘Well, maybe it tasted better yesterday because we kept putting off dinner to try new experiments. We also tried a new drug that I have been able to procure with relative difficulty, since it comes from an exotic plant. I asked one of Prouvaire’s friends for it. I’m not exactly sure what the side effects are.’

Combeferre went over to the notebook that he kept on the table, and started thumbing through its pages until he reached yesterday’s entry and looked at it. ‘Symptoms include: feeling flushed and unusually happy, so much that I feel I can do anything, then a bunch of random squiggles that make no sense.’  He closed the book, ‘Well there you have it. But I know I am very close, maybe we need to distill these plants and boil them.’

He opened his book again and started writing the new method down, a pale flush over his cheeks as he muttered something about asking Joly for his homeopathy book.

‘I would like to volunteer for one of your experiments, someone responsible should be there to supervise.’ Courfeyrac said with a grin, flopping on the sofa beside the table, ‘Is Joly okay?’

‘I think he is still sleeping it off.’ Combeferre yawned loudly, ‘What time is it? I might be late for a lecture, I should go. Wait, I should wake Joly up first.’ Combeferre got up in a hurry and started rummaging in his drawers for a clean suit.

‘Do we tell him it is the weekend and there are no classes today?’ Enjolras asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Courfeyrac giggled and nodded as he looked at Combeferre trying to find his boots and searching for his glasses which were on top of his head.

‘It is Sunday, Combeferre. And we came to ask if you wanted to come join me in practicing boxing and for a lunch afterwards.’ Enjolras said to his friend who was holding a boot in one hand. Combeferre looked relieved at this news.

‘I need to practice that technique you were teaching.’ Combeferre gestured with his arms to show.

‘The rose courvette?’

‘Yes, how did...how did you do that, that day?’ Courfeyrac asked, ‘That was really quick thinking, we would have gotten into a lot of trouble otherwise. Theraud spies for the gendarmes you know, he belongs to this gang of ruffians, the Patron Minette. I’ve been keeping an eye on them since that day and have discovered their hideouts. We don’t have any more spies in our group.’

Enjolras smiled, ‘I am pleased about that and I will show you both the technique, it’s not that hard. You see, you need to...’

There was a knock on the door. A small wiry shape appeared, which they recognized as Gavroche.

‘Gavroche!’ Enjolras asked, ‘What is it? Something to do with the printers? I just left the shop an hour ago with our pamphlets.’

‘A message from Bahorel.’ He puffed, ‘I would stick around and play but some of us have important things to do,’ he said cheerfully doffing his cap and making faces, while Courfeyrac attempted to catch him and give him a friendly pat on the back.

‘The cheeky devil.’ Courfeyrac chuckled, ‘He’s learned quite a few new phrases now that he has been hanging out with Bahorel and working in your print shop, I’m quite happy about that.’ His face assumed a concerned look, ‘What is it?’

‘It seems that there is to be a meeting after all. The printers and the other political groups are very much concerned about the edicts of Charles X. They are calling for an urgent meeting in two hours to decide our course of action.’

Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras and nodded silently, they understood each other’s body language enough to know that they could expect a riot at least to occur and needed the support of all the political groups they knew. Enjolras was already working out the threads of the plan in his mind.

‘The law students are already organising for such a contingency, I was there only yesterday.’ Courfeyrac said.

‘The Polytechnique students will join us too, I will go and talk to them. I must wake Joly up first.’ Combeferre said, who had every article of clothing on, in proper order now.

A few moments later, they were hailing an omnibus, with a groggy Joly trailing behind. 

'Come on Jolllly, it is time to fly on your ailes.' Courfeyrac poked him in the chest. ‘We may need to go get some coffee so that Joly can wake up properly,’ he added looking at the sleepy Joly and at Combeferre who was still shaking his head from time to time.

Enjolras nodded. ‘To café Voltaire first then.’

‘Jehan and Bahorel are not going to be pleased that you had a drug party without them.’ Courfeyrac said as he sipped his coffee, ‘We should invite them round the next time.’

Combeferre smiled as he sipped his coffee, still mentally doing the calculations of the ingredients they needed, ‘I have tried opium for surgeries though I can never get the dosage right, but perhaps we need to try it again…perhaps with some herbs… maybe there is something I haven’t considered....’  

Enjolras chimed in, ‘It would be a grand discovery if you invent the painless surgery you have talked about so much.’

‘Yes.’ Combeferre’s eyes shone as he sat there with his friends, drinking black coffee without any sugar. ‘Think of all the possibilities for surgery, all the procedures that can be performed in more detail if the patient does not feel pain.’   

‘And does not die on the operating table.’ Joly said, ‘Science at this point is exciting because we’re on the brink of discovering new cures, but we are equally likely to kill people and I still find that hard. For one of our practicals, I suggested trying a new cure but our patient ended up dying.’ 

Combeferre patted Joly's shoulders, ‘I’m also finding it hard to be impartial and objective as Dr. Cuvier keeps repeating in his surgery classes, the more I go on our clinical rounds with Dr. Feydeau. Sometimes we meet people who can’t afford treatment and I keep wondering if I have chosen the right profession, I want us to discover the cures for the various ailments, not just for advancing the science but for the people.’ 

Enjolras took Combeferre’s hand in his and squeezed it warmly, ‘Your experiments and your surgeries are helping people, both of you.’ Combeferre gave Enjolras a warm smile. while Joly sipped his coffee looking extremely pleased.

'My ailes have returned.' he told Courfeyrac grinning, 'I feel much better.'

'How is that our Joly is not feeling sick at all, it must be truly a miracle.' Courfeyrac exclaimed. 

'Nothing ails your ailes, they are free to soar and I'm pleased.' Enjolras smiled while Courfeyrac howled with laughter at the joke. 

'Bossuet is not here, but I shall read your funeral oration myself, Monsieur de Courfeyrac.'

'I concede this round to you, Jollly, but our sparring is not over. Right now I propose a toast to the future and to the exciting new possibilities.’ Courfeyrac said, raising his cup, his green eyes glittering with contentment, nothing pleased him more than to be in the company of his friends, so he was in his element. 

‘To the future,’ everyone echoed and Enjolras added, ‘May it include your painless surgeries.’

Courfeyrac started humming a little political ditty and the rest soon joined him in it, their voices soaring and ringing loudly as they made their way outside.   

**Author's Note:**

> Anaesthesia (chloroform was the earliest type) would not be invented until the 1840s though opium, nitrous oxide were known. So you can say Combeferre's efforts in trying to discover painless surgery were almost historic.


End file.
